


Vicis

by Molly_Jae



Series: Renovamen [1]
Category: Shadowhunters (TV), The Shadowhunter Chronicles - All Media Types, The Shadowhunter Chronicles - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Alec Lightwood Loves Magnus Bane, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Post-Canon, Alternate Universe - Pre-Canon, Angel Wings, Downworlders, Dragon wings, Fluff, M/M, Magnus Bane Has Wings, Magnus Bane Loves Alec Lightwood, Mild Wing Kink, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Wings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-06
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-18 21:55:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29864631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Molly_Jae/pseuds/Molly_Jae
Summary: Alec finds Magnus in the middle of the living room, looking decidedly different from the man he'd left before going to work that day. For starters, he haswingsnow.
Relationships: Ithuriel/Asmodeus, Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood
Series: Renovamen [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2195652
Comments: 3
Kudos: 44





	Vicis

**Author's Note:**

> Title is Latin for "Return" according to google translate.
> 
> Thank you to [SomeSleepySloth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SomeSleepySloth/profile) for beta-ing this 💚
> 
> Taking a quick break from the angst fest that is [Broken Mirrors](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27265462) to post this.

Magnus is in the middle of a glowing pentagram. It surrounds him in a blue glow that’s a lighter shade than his usual magic. He’s on his knees, sitting on his haunches with his eyes closed and his hands on his thighs, palms up. If Alec didn’t know any better, he would think Magnus was meditating. Alec has seen him take up a similar position often enough that it wouldn’t have worried him to stumble upon the warlock that way. Sure, there usually isn’t an eerie pentagram, but Alec feels like there’s a lot he still has to learn about warlock customs, and Downworld practices in general. This could have easily been one of those things.

As it is, the Inquisitor isn’t quite sure what to make of his husband’s large golden wings. Those had certainly not been there when they’d kissed each other goodbye that morning, and certainly hadn’t been around in the year and a half he’d known Magnus (a year of which had been spent being married to him, even). They flutter then open wide, and Alec is unsure if he is supposed to interpret it as an aggressive, submissive or neutral gesture.

He takes a few steps closer, stopping just a few feet from the edge of the circle containing the handsome warlock that is Magnus Lightwood-Bane. The wings do nothing to take away from his beauty. Laid bare as he is, Magnus looks far more nephilim than any other shadowhunter Alec has ever met—and his _parabatai_ has actual angel blood in his system.

Golden scales blend into a near-translucent amber. Faint blue veins become more visible as the last few rays of the setting sun filters through the open balcony doors, and when the wings twitch, the veins seem to darken briefly before fading back to their usual cerulean color.

When Magnus tilts his head, bright gold cat eyes blink up at Alec. Although, with the wings and the scales, Alec can’t help but think that his husband’s eyes looked more like a dragon’s than a cat’s.

“Welcome home, Alexander.” 

“Magnus, care to tell me what’s going on?”

“I’ve been reprimanded and rewarded by the Angels in equal measure.” Magnus sighs, and though his words start ringing alarm bells in Alec’s head, his tone helps prevent Alec from jumping to unsavory conclusions.

“You don’t seem worried.” Alec undoes the cuffs of his sleeves, slowly rolling them up to his elbows. “Should I call someone to free you? Cat? Dot? Lorenzo?”

Magnus smiles, reassuring Alec that he is in no danger, but not taking away from how utterly odd the entire situation is. “Why don’t you take a seat, darling, so I can explain everything.” He raises a hand and flicks his wrist in the direction of his husband.

Alec’s favorite armchair appears behind him, and he takes the offered seat despite the uncertainty he feels. At least, he notes, Magnus is still able to do magic without any obvious problem. Then again, the warlock isn’t a stranger to hiding his pain and problems. He tenses even further. Was there someone in the loft with them that was controlling Magnus somehow? Was the man before him actually his husband?

A sharp sting of fear goes through Alec at the thought that Magnus has yet again been the subject of some sort of bodyswap.

“Relax, Alexander,” Magnus coos with a small wave of his fingers, making a drink appear in Alec’s hand. Gin-based, of course. “This circle helps contain any errant bout of magic I might have while I adapt to the expansion."

“Expansion?” Brows furrowed, Alec leans forward, “You’ve got to start from the beginning, Magnus. What do you mean the Angels have something to do with this? And what’s happening to your magic?”

_“Alexander Gideon Lightwood.”_

A woman appears at the balcony, her features eerily familiar but also confusingly new.

“Lightwood-Bane,” the couple corrects in unison. Alec, having stood and drawn his seraph blade, regards her suspiciously.

She smiles, and it’s in the curve of her lips that Alec realizes the similarity. “Lightwood-Bane,” she says.

 _Magnus._ She looks like a female Magnus. In the same way some have remarked on his and Isabelle’s resemblance, he could easily do the same with the two. She steps into the room. Alec moves to intercept her, only to stop when Magnus stands up. His wings fold in behind him, and Alec alternates between keeping an eye on the woman and making sure Magnus is fine.

“I haven’t seen you look like that since I was a child,” Magnus walks right up to the edge of the circle closest to the woman, and though Alec wants to step in between them, he forces himself to stay put.

The woman doesn’t say anything as she joins Magnus. Alec watches the woman’s features shift and blur before they settle into her having the same golden eyes as Magnus, but where scaled wings had grown from Magnus’ back, the woman has two large gray feathered wings that seem to glimmer as they shift. The feathers grow darker closer to the tips, and with every sparkle in the light, the lighter shades of gray look closer to white than ever.

“Why didn’t you pull your Alexander in with you?” She asks, but Alec has the feeling it was more for his sake than hers or Magnus’.

His husband stretches his neck from side-to-side, in the same way he does when he and Alec are preparing to spar or for a fight in general. It makes Alec even more anxious, though Magnus’ subsequent smile helps soothe some of his fears.

“You know it won’t hurt him.”

“I trust you,” Magnus says, looking at Alec but talking to the woman. “The others, however…”

She hums, and without so much as a twitch, the barrier disintegrates and the pentagram is gone. “Perhaps I should leave you to explain to your husband all that has transpired.” The look she sends Alec is more curious than any other expression he’d expected. Her smile softens, lips closing and Alec hates the part of himself that zeroes in on that detail simply because it reminds him so much of Magnus. “Congratulations, _parabatai_.”

They hear the ruffle of feathers and she’s gone.

“Magnus?” Alec walks right up to his _(winged!)_ husband, reaching out, ready to soothe any ache or call for Catarina.

“Next time, I’m going to need to trap her.” Magnus mutters, even as he leans into the hand Alec uses to cup his cheek.

“Magnus, my love, who was that?”

“Did you know, Alexander,” Magnus begins, leading Alec back to the armchair he’d conjured earlier, “that shadowhunters aren’t the only ones protected by the angels?”

* * *

Angels were beings made of love and light. Granted power mundanes were not, and a certain freedom tempered with the responsibility of ensuring the worlds didn’t fall apart, They created angels as a means of continued protection.

When Lucifer Morningstar Fell, six immediately chose to follow his Descent. “ _The Princes of Hell,”_ as they would come to be known across the worlds.

A seventh angel however, beloved to Lucifer as a brother, had Fallen a lot slower than the others. They had lingered at the proverbial gates, wanting the power that came with leaving, but unsure of the price to be paid.

Asmodeus, an angel of love and affection, whose powers grew with every ounce of it expressed and felt in the worlds, had themselves already committed an act unsanctioned and frowned upon by Them.

The angels were not supposed to love and feel as humans did. They may have been beings made of love and light, but those were never meant to be reflected upon themselves. They had been created to serve Them and protect Their creations.

To turn to each other and to _covet_ —

Asmodeus chose to Fall, to spare Ithuriel the choice.

Unlike the six others that had immediately gone on to create or take over what would become the Hell Realms, Asmodeus had walked on Earth. Their powers were slowly morphing into a more corrupted version of what they had first been designed with (and for). Where love and pure affection once boosted Asmodeus’ power, he now began to gain a boost from lust and power.

And in a time where civilization was only beginning to thrive, Asmodeus stumbled upon their beloved masquerading as a human.

“Ithuriel,” Asmodeus breathed, taking on the appearance of a man. “You are far from home.”

“I bring a gift,” the female face Ithuriel wore melted into a soft smile. In the distance, they could hear the laughter of children playing, the next generation of a tribe devoted to serving the gods of the forest in which they lived. These humans would be protected, for They had seen how well they cared for those of their own and others around them. Had Asmodeus still been fully angelic, they would have Blessed the tribe to make only love matches in romance, and be abundant in familial and platonic love and affection. As it were, Asmodeus cared not for their measly lives.

Nothing could have prepared Asmodeus for the Light that Ithuriel offered them.

“A part of me,” Ithuriel murmured, lips a breath away from Asmodeus’, “For you to keep.”

“I cannot,” Asmodeus frowned. “I will not see you Fall, Ithuriel.”

“And I will not, so you will not,” assured Ithuriel. “We are not barred from sharing our light with those that need guidance.”

Although worried, Asmodeus let out a huff of laughter. It was a far cry from the melodious tone an angel’s laughter carried. His Fall had already begun. “I don’t believe this is how They saw us utilizing such a Gift.” And yet—

Asmodeus placed their hands around Ithuriel’s, the latter’s light cradled between them. What last bit of Angelic Power Asmodeus had left them in a painful wave directed to the ball of light.

“In Love and Light we were Created.” Their voices were a mere whisper, heard between only them and Them. “And with love and light we shall Create.” They snuck a kiss—their first and last—then left to follow where their Fallen brothers had gone.

It took nearly a millennia before Asmodeus was confronted with the consequences of their last act as an Angel. As one of the Fallen, they had taken over Edom and stood as Lucifer’s second-in-command, often leaving Lilith to tend to Edom when Lucifer required their presence in another realm. For all that he had disliked the rigidity of their previous designations, Asmodeus was smart enough to understand that there was a need for order to maintain the balance of the realms. So he did as needed and caused chaos along the way. And though the Mother of Demons made for a fun bedfellow when the mood struck them, Asmodeus also helped himself to the variety of humans the world had to offer.

Often taking the visage of a man, it was easy to weave their way in the world, pulling into bed any man or woman who managed to grab even a sliver of their attention.

They knew Heaven disapproved of such blatant disregard for Their beloved humans, but Asmodeus also knew that nothing would be done about their indiscretions. Although tasked with caring for and protecting humans, Angels were to do so from afar unless explicitly ordered to intervene. With the various prophecies Asmodeus had heard, they knew Heaven was doing its best to intercede without actually participating.

Leading a human or two into debauchery was nothing compared to saving humanity as a whole, however, and so Asmodeus was caught off guard when an Angel they did not immediately recognize appeared before them.

The Earthly Plane was never meant to withstand the true image of an Angel, and it seemed the one Heaven sent had yet to fully master their powers, unable to hide the ash-colored feather wings and the hair that seemed to flow like a river behind them, fading out of existence and seemingly blending into the ground beneath.

“You have no business being here.” Asmodeus let his glamour drop from his eyes, gold irises flaring as he used his Sight to dismantle the rest of the angel’s glamour.

“I have been sent to meet you.”

“Has Heaven decided to reopen its gates to those that have Fallen?” Asmodeus raised an unimpressed brow at the angel. A part of them recognized the other, but Asmodeus couldn’t quite place the feeling. “Or have you come to bear witness to the truth of what it means to Fall?” They took a step towards the angel. “Have you been tempted, little angel? Has one of my siblings succeeded in luring you in? I must say, I had not thought They would Create one of you again so soon. I would have given Them another millennia or two before they sought to replace us.”

Where another angel may have turned their nose up at Asmodeus’ words, the little angel only tilted their head in apparent curiosity.

It felt like quite some time passed, with neither of them backing away. They were hidden in the thick forest of the estate Asmodeus’ most recent lover owned; no one would bear witness to anything that may transpire.

“Ithuriel believed it a good idea to meet one of my makers.”

And so, Asmodeus met their first-born.

There had been plenty of children whose blood was half Asmodeus’, of course. They had not been celibate in the years following their last encounter with Ithuriel. Through Lilith alone, they had at least three demon children; two sat in Edom’s court, while one had perished trying to overthrow one of Asmodeus’ brothers. Two other demon offsprings had gone on to wreak havoc in the human realms, one even going so far as to create a new type of immortal being.

Rare as they were, there were some humans able to carry Asmodeus’ seed to term as well, ensuring that there were those that carried their blood and some semblance of their power with them. They kept track of them, though in that moment it seemed only two remained alive. Although one of them was most certainly not going to survive the cannibalistic practices of their tribe. Even his brothers had their own dalliances and resulting offspring, some more than others, but most of them resorted to bringing their children to their realms--to groom or to harvest, Asmodeus didn’t really care to know.

None of their offspring had ever quite shaken them as this little angel had though.

“How is this possible?”

“Angels are born of love and light,” Ithuriel’s voice reverberated through them as they arrived, only to pull their group into a different realm. Having too many Heavenly beings in the previous realm would be too big an invitation for trouble. “I was willing to give but a fraction of my light to help you in whatever pursuit you might have sought, but you…”

Asmodeus had given all the love left within them. The aspects of their angelic power that had yet to be tainted, Asmodeus had poured into the light Ithuriel had offered. They had hoped it would remind Ithuriel of a love shared between them that would never fade. Even now, as they stood on seemingly opposite sides of what would perhaps come to be a never-ending war, there was no part of Asmodeus that sought to harm Ithuriel. Possess them and take them to Edom, perhaps, but not to harm— _never to harm_.

_Not Ithuriel._

“I had tried to keep them a secret, but it was barely a decade in when They Called for angels willing to descend to Earth for Their Holy Plan. I had not been inclined to Answer.”

“But I had.” In one breath and the next, the little angel (for, compared to Asmodeus and Ithuriel, the angel was quite small, reaching only their chests in their humanoid forms) stood between them, an odd mix of their true images struck through with something uniquely the little angel’s.

“And They had simply accepted you?”

“What could They do that would not be against Their Law? It had not been my decision to be Made nor Called. I had as much chance of Falling as I did of Ascending. There was plenty my existence brought to light, like the ability of angels to Create.”

Asmodeus barely spared a glance at the flutter of the little angel’s wings. “And They decided to keep you in Heaven to monitor you. It is better, after all, to keep an eye on a problem than to let it fester and worsen behind closed doors.”

Ithuriel’s own wings twitched, which served to catch Asmodeus’ attention, however briefly.

“Raziel and I have been given our tasks.”

Though no words passed between them, and neither made a move towards the other, Ithuriel and Asmodeus had an understanding in that moment that none could ever hope to fathom. This little angel was _theirs_. Called as they were, the fact that they had heeded Ithuriel’s advice and sought out Asmodeus spoke more about their allegiance than their agreement to fulfill the task set by Them.

“Raziel is to Choose those to gift with the blood of angels,” explained the little angel. “The Mortal Realm has far too many demons and demon-blooded roaming it. When it had only been the Fallen was one thing. But now, Their most precious are in too much danger, and from Raziel shall rise those who may See to protect.”

“And you? What would They have you do?”

“I’ve been Chosen to protect your people. The blood of the Fallen mixing with mortals have brought about creations They hadn’t Made Themselves. And though They did not create them, They still seek to look after them.”

“An angel for the demon-blooded? And another one for the angel-blooded whose purpose would be to kill the first.”

“Humans are Their greatest and most precious creation.” The little angel replied. “It matters not what else might run through their veins, if they are, at their core, human, They would see to their protection.”

“They or you?”

“I will ensure Their Will be done.”

“And Raziel? Why split the group into two? Why not have only one angel for all those with mixed lineage?”

It was Ithuriel that intercepted his questions, voice calm as they said: “Asmodeus.” They had seemingly reversed their looks in their humanoid forms this time round: with Asmodeus taking on the look of a female and Ithuriel a male.

The little angel seemed unbothered, meeting Asmodeus’ gaze. “They wish to care for and protect all. That would be the primary Commandment of Raziel’s people. They would guard the land from demons, ensuring that the demons return to their realms. But unlike Raziel, I need not create my people. You and yours have already done so. Even as we speak, there are those with the blood of the Fallen roaming the land. Some not quite as mortal as the others.”

A pause.

“And it is one of yours that would Summon Raziel.” They placed a hand out and produced a moving image identical to an event happening on earth. It showed one daughter of Asmodeus, healing the people brought to her. People would begin to notice if she no longer looked as if she were aging past the two hundred and forty moons she had already seen.

Asmodeus stiffened. He cared not for his seed, but for one of them to summon one of his former brothers...

“Not yet.” The image disappeared. “Not for a bit more time in her eyes.”

“What need do you have of me, then?” Asmodeus kept their eyes on the little angel, unwilling to even glance at Ithuriel. “I have not been Called-- _cannot_ be Called. You have no obligations to me. I may have aided in your creation, but you have always been--” He refused to finish the statement, because despite the truth in admitting that he had Created for Ithuriel, to admit so now would bring to light that he still had such selfless feelings even as the Fallen.

“Ithuriel thought it best I inform you of such an assignment myself.”

“Information is currency, little angel,” Asmodeus tutted. “You should know better than to be so free with what you know, have, and are capable of. Who’s to say I wouldn’t take the woman for myself and bring her to Edom? She seems particularly powerful, and I wouldn’t be opposed to a boost myself.”

Without another sound but the ruffle of feathers, the little angel was gone.

“They aren’t whole,” Ithuriel made no move towards Asmodeus, though they felt the other’s presence as if they were standing toe-to-toe. “We Made them, but they always seem to be looking for something else.”

“Perhaps they need only find what we had.”

“Would you take them in if they did?”

“You cannot ask that of me.”

“I do not. They are neither you, nor I.”

“And is that for the better?”

“It is as it shall always be.”

“Are they accepted among your kind?”

“They do not pay for their maker’s mistakes.”

“And you?”

“I made no mistake in--”

“Edom has no space for an Angel.” Asmodeus created a rift that would lead him straight to his realm. “And they are Theirs now after being Called. It would do both of you well not to repeat this.”

* * *

“Ithuriel?” Alec whispers, absent-mindedly scratching the patch of scales that connected Magnus’ wings. From the little shudders and purrs his husband is letting out, he seems to like it. Who was Alec to stop? “The same Ithuriel that Jace and Clary have the blood of? That Valentine captured? _That Ithuriel?_ ”

“Mhmm,” agrees Magnus, keeping his cheek on Alec’s shoulder and his nose pressed to the side of Alec’s neck.

“That’s her then? She’s the...what... _daughter_ of Asmodeus and Ithuriel?”

“Maybe.”

“What? Isn’t that what you just told me?”

“Alexander,” Magnus straightens up where he sits straddling his husband, wings flexing behind him. “I told you of the story of an angel being Chosen to protect and guide the shadow people, but I never said that that angel and the one that had just graced us with their presence are one in the same.”

“The daughter of Asmodeus, then? The one they showed him and Ithuriel.”

Magnus shakes his head. “She has long since passed.” With a smile, he presses a kiss to Alec’s furrowed brow. “What questions you have about them or for them, you should ask directly.” He explains sheepishly. “You were correct in your first guess, but you were also wrong, because you weren’t asking the exact question that would get all that you want to know.”

“Cryptic.” Alec murmurs, shaking his head, leaning forward to capture his husband’s lips. “What I’m more concerned about is you though.” His left hand settles on Magnus’ hip while his right holds his face. “Are you okay? You haven’t explained the whole _reprimanded and rewarded_ bit from earlier yet.”

Hazy golden eyes blink at Alec as Magnus nuzzles into his palm. “I don’t know which actions warranted what, exactly, but my reward is access to the full stores of my magic. The reprimand, however, is that it took a year for me to learn of it, and it will take longer for me to be able to properly tap into it.”

“How did you even lose access to--” Alec frowns, recalling Magnus’ lost magic and all that had entailed. “Was it--? Had I--?”

“No, no,” Magnus rushes to assure Alec with a kiss. He shifts and his wings fold neatly behind him, and to Alec, he seems almost nervous. He notes the way Magnus fiddles with the buttons of Alec’s shirt as he continues, “This was...I have done many things in my life I regret, Alexander, you must know this. The biggest thing that had the Angels punish me by binding part of my magic was my not-so-accidentally starting a cult that worshipped myself or Asmodeus, that may or may not have led to plenty of summonings, deaths, smaller religions, and general chaos and destruction.”

“Isn’t that a bit much? I mean...you can’t have been the only warlock that started a cult.” Alec moves his hand from Magnus’ cheek to his chin so that he could look him in the eye.

“None of them were as powerful as I am,” Magnus’ statement lacks the bravado Alec normally associates with him or people who spoke of their own power in general. Alec briefly thinks of Lorenzo, but even that thought doesn’t last. It is pure fact, the way Magnus put it, as if he’s detailing a report in a more formal setting. “And,” Magnus tacks on in a whisper, “my magic isn’t a matter of just power or actual reserves per se. It’s…” He hums. “It’s about connection.”

“The angel from earlier?” Alec deduces. “You’re connected to her.”

Magnus lets out a small laugh. “You might even say we used to be one soul in two bodies.”

Alec leans back, refusing to acknowledge just how attractive he found Magnus in that moment as he tries to process everything he’s just learned. Here is one of the most powerful warlocks in the world, savior and first ever High Warlock of Alicante (when he had no access to part of his magic, no less!), _connected to an angel_ on his lap and looking at him as if _he_ were the one who would find Magnus lacking in some way shape or form. Really, for all of Magnus’ intelligence, his insecurities clouded his perception far too often where their love was concerned.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you sooner.”

“Were you planning on telling me at all?” Alec’s grip on Magnus tightens when he feels his husband flinch. He hadn’t meant it in an antagonistic way. Centuries of experience and history laid behind Magnus, after all. Alec didn’t really hold much of it against his husband. Well, other than Camille, but really, that was more along the lines of _how could you have loved someone so vile_ and not _how could you have loved her_.

When Magnus shakes his head and refuses to look back up at Alec, the shadowhunter uses it as an opportunity to duck under his husband’s chin -- and what a rare treat it is to be the one tucked underneath him when they are both mostly upright like this -- to nudge him.

“Hey, I’m not mad, okay? All I care about is that you’re safe, and that she isn’t here to hurt you or use you or--”

Magnus cuts him off with a kiss; one they both melt into as the warlock licks right into Alec’s mouth and wraps his arms around Alec’s shoulders. His wings stretch open behind him, and Alec places one hand on Magnus’ ass and the other at the strands of hair at his nape.

Alec’s mind blanks as Magnus grinds down on him, and he scratches down Magnus’ back in response, nails dragging from his neck, down his back, the space between his wings and--

The full body shudder Magnus makes is enough to make Alec pause. He raises his hand again, then curls his fingers into Magnus’ dark locks and _tugs_. A moan falls from Magnus lips, and Alec is beyond satisfied with how utterly wrecked Magnus looks after just a few minutes of making out. Half-lidded eyes and slit pupils blown wide, it’s been one of Alec’s favorite looks on the warlock since they’d gotten together. But now, with Magnus on his lap and that same look accompanied by two golden wings spread behind him--

Without so much as another word, Alec pulls Magnus in once more and goes straight for his lower lip. He nibbles on it before placing open mouthed kisses along Magnus’ skin, tongue darting out for a taste. His teeth scrape against Magnus’ Adam’s apple, earning him a low drawn-out moan.

“Alexander,” Magnus manages to gasp, only to be reduced to another moan when Alec’s hand rubs the middle of his back.

“Well, this is new.”

Even without looking at him, Magnus can tell Alec’s smirking, but the statement cools the heat he can feel as insecurity begins to seep in. The lack of a belly button and golden cat eyes were relatively tame warlock marks. They are easily hidden and therefore easy to forget. And even when he unglamoured them, they were such minute marks,compared to Ragnor’s skin and horns, Lorenzo’s scales, Catarina’s skin…

“Hey, you’re thinking really loud, and…” Alec reaches up and caresses a wing’s edge, and it’s only then that Magnus realizes his wings have folded up behind him, reacting as if to hide as well. “Really obvious.”

“I…” Magnus forces himself to let go of Alec and would have gotten off of him altogether if it weren’t for the suddenly tight grip the man had on his hips. “I know this is a lot,” he whispers, reaching out once again. He never did have the best impulse control, especially where his husband is concerned. “I haven’t had these in such a long time. I never even thought I’d get them back, so it might take a while to get used to them again, but don’t worry I--.”

“Can you fly with them?”

Confused, Magnus nods slowly.

“Can you...have you used magic while flying before?”

Magnus cannot mistake how blown Alec’s pupils are, and the realization that these new additions are not only a non-issue but a _turn on_ for his wonderful husband delights him beyond measure.

One of Magnus’ hand rests on the side of Alec’s neck, thumb rubbing against the latter’s jawline.

“It used to be why I was hunted down. Warlock wings make impressive trophies.” He soothes Alec with kisses when his jaw tightens, murmuring his next words against his skin. “So I had to learn how to fight using them too.” Magnus smiles at Alec’s breathy curse. “With weapons.” He bites the skin below Alec’s ear. “Without.” He nibbles on Alec’s lobe. “On the ground.” A jerk of his hand and Alec’s throat is bared to him, the deflect rune calling to him as always. “In the air.”

“Fuck,” Alec tightens his grip on Magnus’ hips and grinds their crotches together. “You’re going to have to learn that all over again.”

Magnus hums in agreement, gyrating his hips and leaving a trail of marks on Alec’s skin with his mouth. “I’ll probably end up needing some training, yes.” His free hand trails from Alec’s abdomen to his chest. He lets his nails dig into his skin as he curls his fingers in Alec’s chest hair. “Think anyone can help me out?” His hand tightens into a fist, pulling at the hairs and a long moan from his favorite nephilim.

“Magnus, I--”

Hours later, when they’re sated and have managed to actually reach the bed, Magnus has a half-asleep shadowhunter on his chest. He massages Alec’s head, enjoying the way Alec relaxes even further into him.

“It really doesn’t bother you?” Magnus couldn’t help but ask. “This is... _vastly_ different from my eyes.”

Alec frowns, “I think I’m more concerned about how you feel in all of this. You’ve been reunited with this part of you I hadn’t even known existed after having been taken from you for so long.” When Magnus doesn’t say anything, Alec presses a kiss to the middle of his pecs, where Magnus’ skin shines with the hint of scales. “But to answer your question, I think the aspect of this that bothers me is more along the lines of how hot I find you having wings is.”

Magnus lets out his breath, long and slow. How could he have gotten so lucky?

“Oh, and does that mean you have to groom your wings from time-to-time? Like a bird? Cause I don’t think I know how to do that, but--”

“Hush, Alexander, we’ll cross that bridge when we get there.”

“But Magnus, we need--”

“Alexander,” Magnus tugs at his hair.

The pink that emerges across Alec’s cheek as he moans only serves to make him even more beautiful to Magnus.

“We’ll figure it out.” They share a kiss. “Together.” 

**Author's Note:**

> How was thaaaaat?
> 
> There will be at least three more fics after this, all Malec and delving into the lore of the AU. I've had this on the back burner for a while, but I always thought I'd post it as a chaptered fic. Watch me change my mind. lol I'll tell you right now there is soooooo much more coming.
> 
> Comments and kudos are always appreciated! 💚
> 
> If you want to scream about Malec and everything shadowhunters, [join the Discord!](https://discord.gg/KYfKJQz9Zt)
> 
> If you want to reach me with a prompt or to scream about the fic or whatever (and don't want to join the server), find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/mollyjae_twt)~


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